<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>[fic &amp; podfic] If the Heavens Ever Did Speak by Gondolin</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181555">[fic &amp; podfic] If the Heavens Ever Did Speak</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin'>Gondolin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Historical RPF, Shakespeare RPF | Elizabethan &amp; Jacobean Theater RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Bad Puns, Flirting, M/M, Podfic, Podfic &amp; Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, playwrights at large</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:28:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,852</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24181555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gondolin/pseuds/Gondolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I could kiss the lips that uttered my verses so perfectly,” he whispered, “Who is this new stage wonder?"</i><br/>William bowed with a flourish and took off his feathered hat. "William Shakespeare, at your service."<br/>The man looked him up and down. "Is that so?"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Christopher Marlowe/William Shakespeare</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Voice Team 2020: Orange Team, Voiceteam 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>[fic &amp; podfic] If the Heavens Ever Did Speak</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Historical notes: London has always been an overpriced hellhole and people didn’t just share houses back then, or even rooms. Oh, no, people shared beds. <del>Oh my god they were bedmates!</del><br/>Acton was an area known for how much murder was going on there (did I check if this fame really goes back to elizabethan times? no. but we’re not here for historical accuracy, despite the previous note)</p><p>Recorded for the Take Me To Church anthology for VoiceTeam. I would like to thank this challenge for kicking my butt into actually finishing the writing part of this, because the file has been in my drafts since <i>twenty-FIFTEEN</i>.</p><p>This is also a good time to share once more my beloved playlist for these two, <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5IpXFRI8Am3GqDfunGCSzO?si=Bso-pUdOS4uhXQ3rPTF9lw">young playmakers</a>.<br/>EDIT: now there's an absolutely excellent playlist for them by TheLordOfLaMancha/fishchipsandvinegar: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2fck4DtXcMSVLQzudNgAMH?si=Ee2GjSfpTMKGUAm-8Ys5Rw">omg they were BED MATES</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Length:</b> 12:28 (without music)</p><p><b>MP3 download:</b> right click to download <a href="https://ia601405.us.archive.org/12/items/historical-rpf-if-the-heavens-ever-did-speak-with-music/%28Historical%20RPF%29%20If%20the%20Heavens%20Ever%20Did%20Speak%20with%20music.mp3">here</a> | <a href="https://www.mediafire.com/file/a782vkyxo4ofjgc/%28Historical_RPF%29_If_the_Heavens_Ever_Did_Speak_with_music.mp3/file">alternative link</a> | <a href="https://www.mediafire.com/file/psp5bdo1fi25hep/%28Historical_RPF%29_If_the_Heavens_Ever_Did_Speak.mp3/file">no music version</a><br/>
<br/>
<audio></audio></p>
<hr/><p>Will’s first speaking role was in a Ben Jonson piece and it was a roaring success. Or at least, no one threw vegetables at him specifically, so he counted that as such. Applause was always more abundant for those in a leading role, but then Will did not aspire to that.</p><p>After some time, they were called to court to play the Massacre in Paris. It all went well, and Will soon disappeared to the side like a conjured shadow once his scene was done.</p><p>A man was leaning half in shadow behind the heavy drapes. He clapped slowly, William knew not whether in mock or awe.</p><p>The man stopped him as soon as he set foot backstage.</p><p>“I could kiss the lips that uttered my verses so perfectly,” he whispered, “Who is this new stage wonder?"</p><p>William bowed with a flourish and took off his feathered hat. "William Shakespeare, at your service."</p><p>The man looked him up and down. "Is that so?"</p><p>“Are you really Christopher Marlowe?” Will asked instead, tone still pitched low, ignoring the blatant flirtation.</p><p>“I am, or else I’d be a thief,” he juggled a pouch on his belt, “As I have just been paid for this play. I’ll need help spending all this and I have no drinking companions for tonight. What say you about helping me?”</p><p>“I’d be honoured to join you, master Marlowe.”</p><p>“None of that, William. We're not respectable people, so there’s no need for formalities between us.”</p><p>Will wanted to be outraged or at least mildly offended, but the smile on Mar- on Christopher’s face was guileless and earnest, like he truly wanted Will’s company.</p><p>Soon enough, Will would learn that there was very little he could deny to that smile.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"Don't you have a show tomorrow?"</p><p>William almost dropped his drink, and Christopher laughed at him.</p><p>"Don't fret, I am not here to scold you."</p><p>That completely failed to calm William. He knew, logically, that they were bound to frequent the same establishments on the South Bank: after all, there were only so many cheap taverns near the theatres. Still, there was something deliberate in Marlowe's appearance and he wasn’t sure he liked it.</p><p>"We should celebrate. It's your first time in a title role, is it not?"</p><p>"It is," William nodded, wary, "And for this reason I would fain get too drunk to stand, least I should lose my way to the playhouse tomorrow."</p><p>"Don't worry, my friend, I could find my way to there blindfolded."</p><p>"Will you be attending, then?"</p><p>"Of course! My vanity wouldn't allow otherwise. I long to hear the applause."</p><p>"You should be a player too, then."</p><p>"I am, if the occasion requires it. Still, Ned does my heroes justice far better than I'd ever do."</p><p>"You could perhaps do justice to your heroines."</p><p>"Would you so enjoy to see me play the woman's part?"</p><p>William was quite sure that, of all the rumours about Christopher Marlowe, the one least often whispered was the most true. That is not to say that he was not a rakehell or that he didn’t blaspheme as easy as breathing. But he was a sinner of a sort William knew as well as he knew himself.</p><p>So he smiled quietly behind his mug of warm ale and said nothing, but Christopher’s eyes were on him now, curious and strangely brilliant in the tavern’s cozy twilight, as if they caught the light like a cat’s.</p><p>“Maybe,” Will said after a long enough pause that he could have been talking about something else, “And I myself do enjoy a variety of parts. What a bore to play the hero every night.”</p><p>“A bore, mh?” A corner of Christopher’s mouth ran up into almost a smile before he caught it, “So you are in this profession for the adventure?”</p><p>“Adventures and coin,” Will took a bite of his bread and cleaned up his plate from the last of the stew, “I make a point not to go to bed hungry.”</p><p>“Well, as I see you’re not hungry anymore, what are you going to do about the bed?”</p><p>They went home together.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Will wrote Kit into a sonnet, making silly assonances work to form his name and complaining all the while that nothing rhymed with Christopher.</p><p>"You never call me Christopher anyway," Kit managed to convey the shrug in his words, as he was laying on the bed, biting at his nails and playing with his quill (no pun intended), clearly plotting something brilliant or something filthy. Or, more likely, both.</p><p>"Mark-my-love..." Will chants.</p><p>"That doesn't sound right."</p><p>"It looks it, though. Your name could be Mar-love."</p><p>"Gods preserve me."</p><p>"Stop playing the pagan with me, Kit. One day you'll slip up in public and-</p><p>"And what? Who would notice or care? Have you met me, William? My middle name is Scandal, no one pays me any mind."</p><p>“I pay you mind, Ser Scandal.”</p><p>“William the Conqueror has knighted me!” Kit teased, dropping his quill back into the inkpot on the floor and setting the paper aside. </p><p>Will did the same and turned properly towards him, smiling. “I don’t have a sword to knight you with, Ser Scandal. Whatever shall we do?”</p><p>“You are disgusting,” Kit grinned back.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Kit flopped onto the bed and loudly announced: "Kyd is a pain in the arse."</p><p>"I can't tell if you're making lewd jokes or not anymore."</p><p>"Eww, not with Kyd, I wouldn't! Do you really think my standards have sunk so low?"</p><p>"Wait, do you have standards? That's news to me," William snickered.</p><p>“Well, they’re certainly low enough to keep <em>you </em>around, Shakespeare.”</p><p>Will let it drop, quickly returning to his balance book, trying to make sense of the week’s budget.</p><p>After a short silence, Kit spoke up again, "I was thinking... You're sharing your lodgings and so am I, but I think we could save a lot of candles if we wrote together."</p><p>"It's just for the candles, of course," Will said dryly. But he was smiling already.</p><p>"And the beddings," Kit added, grinning.</p><p>"Give it time and we will be sharing clothes, too."</p><p>"You wish, country boy."</p><p>"I am sorry, I didn't understand anything, with that Kentish accent."</p><p>"Don't you dare."</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There are bite marks on the pillows from the few times Will tries to keep quiet and there are indecent sonnets praising his pretty moans scattered on the table. There is a bottle of cheap oil beneath the bed and their clothes form a single pile on the floor.</p><p>Kit learns that Will is not a caring person, but that, sometimes, he makes an effort and that makes all the difference. Will learns that Kit hides his gentleness like a theft in the night - sometimes Will wakes with a coat on his shoulders after falling asleep on the desk yet again, but Kit will never accept thanks, nor show kindness in the light of day.</p><p>They get under each other's skin in the most beautiful ways. They read to each other and perform to each other and gossip like schoolboys. They read the same books and leave each other notes scrabbled in the margins. Kit has a terrible memory but a knack for languages: he helps Will with classical authors, and in exchange Will shouts bits of recent history at him when he's lost and floundering and his "Massacre at Paris will be you massacring history, I mean it, Kit" (yet neither of them care too much about accuracy, in the face of a better story or a better turn of phrase).</p><p>They drink and get drunk, they fall in love and out of favour, out of love and in love again. Still they have each other's back. Everyone pretends not to know. They can be discreet, but most of the time they aren't, nor do they need to be. The South Bank is not the City proper after all, and none of their acquaintances are respectable people.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>When Edmund wrote that he was coming to London, William panicked. His brother was, of course, expecting to stay with him.</p><p>As usual, Kit was the voice of reason.</p><p>"I'll offer him the bed and get the floor while he's here, what is the problem? He will, of course, understand that sharing rooms is a necessity," he proposed at first.</p><p>"I am not a good enough actor to spend whole days and nights beside you without betraying myself."</p><p>"Then I can just find another place for a while and then we'll see. It's not the end of the world."</p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>Turns out, both Will and Edmund had something - some<em>one</em> - they were trying to hide.</p><p>Edmund’s lover was, more respectably, a woman. Slightly less respectable was the fact that their union had produced a child outside of matrimony.</p><p>“This isn’t Stratford,” Will laughed when Edmund told him, “I don’t care, and the city is big enough for as many bastards as you want. It’s not like it will tarnish my reputation.”</p><p>Edmund nudged him none too gently. “Not like <em>that’s</em> what would ruin your reputation, is it?”</p><p>Will knew that tone, and he was immediately alert. ”What do you mean?"</p><p>"Don't try to act the fool with me, Bill, I know you too well."</p><p>So that was it. Will crossed his arms on his chest and asked: "What is it that you need to know, then?”</p><p>"Nothing that a gentleman would blush to say," Ed snickered, "I just need to know if he’s worth it. Or if I need to take him for a walk around Acton."</p><p>William let himself laugh.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>They tumbled again in bed together, after so long. Will was still covered in theatre blood and Kit pushed him away. "You're filthy, you'll ruin all my clothes."</p><p>"I'll ruin you alright, Kit," he whispered, and he was a wreck. His muscles ached and his chest seemed too small for all the breath he needed. But more than breath he needed to suffocate nostalgia upon a kiss and so he did.</p><p>"Don't you ever leave me again."</p><p>"That was all you, this time, you and your family. The Shakespeares will be the death of me, I swear.”</p><p>"And you still haven’t met my kids."</p><p>"God preserve me!"</p><p>"Says the atheist."</p><p>"Maybe I'm a pagan. What do you know? Maybe I'm catholic!"</p><p>"Atheist would be preferable."</p><p>"As if you can talk. You just got fined again for missing church.”</p><p>"I am a busy man."</p><p>“Get busy undoing your breeches, you miscreant, or I’ll tear them with my teeth,” Kit threatened, and Will wasn’t quite sure how much of it was teasing and how much of it was earnest. It was always hard to tell, with Kit.</p><p>It was easy to do as he was told, though. And the way Kit held onto him confessed more affection than his words ever did.</p><p><em>I missed you,</em> his fingers said, holding onto Will’s hips just a shade too hard.</p><p>Will smiled into Kit’s neck, content and inexpressibly fond.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Look, I know the language is all over the place and neither historically accurate nor modern, but I liked the sound of it, so.)</p><p>The Kyd mentioned is Thomas Kyd, another playwright who actually did live with Marlowe for a while.</p></blockquote><div class="children module" id="children">
  <b class="heading">Works inspired by this one:</b>
  <ul>
    <li>
        <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360982">[Podfic] If the Heavens Ever Did Speak</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLordOfLaMancha/pseuds/TheLordOfLaMancha">TheLordOfLaMancha</a>
    </li>
  </ul>
</div></div></div>
</body>
</html>